Namesake
by chattypandagurl
Summary: [ONE SHOT] Deathly Hallows spoilers. Sometimes Ted Lupin wonders if their choice to die had eclipsed their love for him. But a conversation with his godfather, who too had faced the same doubts, enables him to be grateful without regret.


Spoilers for _Deathly Hallows_. Just something that fell out of my brain after reading Deathly Hallows for eight and half hours straight. Nothing belongs to me.

* * *

Every year he visited their graves. Every year his grandmother would squeeze his thin shoulders as his hair darkened to the light brown originally shared by his long dead parents. Every year friends and whatever spare family left would crowd around the fallen, paying their respects for people they had known, if only for a short time.

Ted Lupin had only known them for a few months.

There were times when he resented them; however, he'd grown up with frequent visits from his godfather, Harry, the one they had so willingly died for. He understood, to a certain extent. He would watch as his hair carelessly changed color and know that they had loved him. They had fought for a better life for him, where his less than pure blood would not face expulsion and disgust.

Harry had never told him how they'd died, because he hadn't known himself. It'd been too chaotic, too crazy for anyone to had kept track, really. The only time every single person's attention had been on one spot had been the final confrontation between Lord Voldemort and Harry Potter.

Remus Lupin had been the last of the Marauders, had lived part of his life alone, with friends, then alone again. Ted still remembered the day when Grandma Andy had explained his namesake, for his fallen Muggleborn grandfather and deceased father –two lines extinguished in succession. He remembered Harry telling him how in love his parents had been, how his father had deliberately pushed his mother away, believing that she had deserved better.

"You were hope," Harry had said, smiling. "I still remember when Remus came bursting through Bill's door, announcing your birth. He looked younger than I'd ever seen him."

Ginny Potter would then tell him stories of his mother's playfulness, how she had often lightened the mood in dreary Grimmauld Place by transforming her nose into a pig's snout or twisting her face into a parody of her family's trademark red hair and freckles.

Ted attempted to master his abilities as his mother had, but often found his attempts falling flat, failing to change anything else other than his hair color. For a time, he had also resented this particular "gift," which gave away his emotions far more easily than he'd like –turning red when he liked a girl, blue when he felt excited, brown when he was sad. Many of his classmates seemed to have instant respect for him whenever they heard his last name –Lupin.

"Lupin –Remus Lupin?"

"Didn't he fight in the First and Second Wars?"

"My mum said he'd been the best DADA teacher ever!"

"One of the Marauders!"

Even the parents and professors seemed to look upon Ted with a fond nostalgia that sometimes drove him crazy.

"You look just like them –Remus's face, yes, but definitely Tonks' eyes and mouth –"

"Ah, her clumsiness too, how many times have you banged into that wall?"

He never spoke of his private resentments to anyone, but his godfather seemed to understand his feelings. "They miss Remus and Tonks too," he said. "I had always been told that I looked exactly like my dad, except for my eyes. My mum's."

Ted hesitated. "Sometimes, I wonder if I'd been named wrong. What if I can't –I dunno– live up to their expectations? I –I can't _be _my dad or my grandfather. I mean, I don't even know them."

Harry looked up at the sky with a strange smile. "Funny, that. Everyone carries a piece of that person with them; it's up to you to put together the pieces." He suddenly erupted in laughter. "After all, look at who I named _my _kids after!"

He had to smile at that. Ted laid back on the soft grass, watching his godfather staring at something invisible to all but him. Maybe he was right; maybe he had placed those expectations on himself. Maybe he should have tried out for Quidditch second year, accepted that he had not been given the Prefect badge like his father had.

"Being an orphan sucks."

"Yeah, but we've been lucky; there's lots of people willing to love us."

"It's because we're so good looking."

Harry laughed. "You know, I wonder if Sirius had somehow rubbed off on you in the grand genetic scheme? He'd enjoy instilling that sense of humor in you."

Ted smiled wryly. "Funny, Grams says I inherited it from Grandpa."

"Probably. I didn't know him that well."

"Professor Longbottom raved about you all year. Everybody knows that he knew you."

Harry smiled. "Quite the favorite, Neville. He told me the students wouldn't stop demanding stories, so he gave in, provided they finish their work early, and well. I guess the motivation worked, huh?"

"He told us how Hermione had petrified him first year."

"Oh yeah, before the Sorcerer's Stone thing."

"'Thing?' I think you're downplaying it a little, aren't you?"

Harry shrugged.

"Guess that's not such a big deal compared to defeating Voldemort, is it?"

But his godfather merely shook his head. "I may have finished him off," he said quietly. "But not without help. I only destroyed one Horcrux, after all –did Nev ever tell you about how he sliced off Nagini's head?"

Ted gaped. "Professor _Longbottom_?"

A small smile played on Harry's lips. "Good old Neville. Never thought he'd been good enough, but if I hadn't been terrified, hoping my plan would work –yeah, that was a pretty awesome sight. A true Gryffindor, that one."

"Was my dad?"

"What do you think?"

"Well –" Ted felt at a loss for words. "Everyone tells me he was. My mum too, even if she had been a Hufflepuff."

"There's nothing wrong with them –there had been plenty in the fight."

"But my dad –you don't –well, I guess you do."

Harry nodded. He always seemed to understand what Ted was thinking. "I doubted the stories too, after seeing one side of my dad that wasn't so pretty. As far as I knew, though, Remus's only fault was pushing people away."

Ted sat up. "What?"

But he seemed lost in his own thoughts, in the memories etched in the clouds. "Because he cared too much –because he never thought his absence would hurt more than his presence." He laughed. "I'm glad he came to his senses eventually, though."

"I wonder if it's easier."

"Dying? In a way –for some people– I suppose it is."

"Do you ever wonder? I mean, I love Grandma Andy, no question about that, but it would have been so different, you know? To not worship them. To slam the door in their faces, to yell and be annoyed and make up and –forgive."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, revealing the legendary scar that had started and ended it all. "Yeah, I wonder. But I figure –they died for me. I had been willing to die for the people I love like they had for me too."

"But now –"

"But now I have a family, an amazing godson, friends, something resembling peace but not quite." He smiled. "After all, nobody can really achieve true peace with James blowing something up every other day. They died for me, Ted, just like Remus and Tonks had died for you –so that we can have this."

"They didn't have to die. Mum could have stayed back."

"I think Remus's death would've killed her anyway."

"You don't know that he would have died."

"You don't know that he wouldn't."

"My dad had been the last one standing other than Dumbledore at the Department of Mysteries your fifth year," Ted said quietly. "When Sirius Black died."

"Yes, I know."

"I thought he was powerful."

"He was. They were."

"So why –"

"Do you always ask this many questions?"

Ted flinched. "Sorry, Harry, I just –"

"No, I'm sorry. Mentioning Sirius just made me think about how they're all gone, all four of them. How much I miss them."

"Even Peter Pettigrew?"

"Him the least. But there must have been something there, a long time ago, to make him a Gryffindor. And he did –hesitate, in the end. Sometimes –sometimes I wonder if Dumbledore was right, and if Hogwarts sorted too early. I wonder how traitors like Wormtail ended up in Gryffindor and heroes –great, big, greasy ones, mind you– chose Slytherin."

"You're talking about Severus Snape?"

"Yeah. But about Remus –at the Department of Mysteries he'd only been trying to defend a few teenagers. That time he'd tried to save hundreds."

"It doesn't seem fair."

"It isn't. Lots of people, lots of friends died that day. Fred, for one." Harry's eyes grew bitter. "Ironic that they'd finally gotten Percy back, only to lose Fred, laughing, like Sirius."

Ted sighed heavily, letting his feet tap to the rhythm of the breeze. He knew the thoughts he'd been having were implausible, most likely untrue, but he couldn't seem to shake himself of them, of the irrational fear that his parents had not wanted him, this half-werewolf, half-Metamorphmagus freak of a child.

"They loved you, Teddy."

"I know."

"I saw him," he said slowly. "After they had died."

Ted looked up sharply. "What?"

"The spirits of my mum, dad, Sirius, and Remus all came to me before I faced Voldemort. Your dad had said the only thing he'd regret was not getting to know you, but knows that you'd understand someday. He knows you might not be able to now, but –someday."

"Someday."

Red hair entered Ted's vision. "Time for dinner, boys." Ginny winked. "And guess who else is here?"

Ted blushed. "Er –"

"Leave him alone, Gin; they'll still little."

"_Little?_"

"Don't sulk, Teddy bear."

"Aunt _Ginny_!"

"Oh, shut up. Believe me, it only gets bad when you hear your dad calling your mum 'Mollywobbles' –"

Ted couldn't help the laugh that escaped from his throat, releasing the lump that had been present ever since he and his godfather had begun this conversation. Harry and Ginny entered their home first, briefly revealing Victoire's reddish blonde hair passing casually by the door, his godparents' three children running around, and his grandmother chatting amiably with Professor Longbottom.

He couldn't help but smile as he looked up at the sky, at the clouds that had once seemed so shapeless. A light breeze brushed past him like a friend, like a mother running her affectionate fingers through his hair, like a father's reassuring touch.

They couldn't hear him, but he allowed the wind to take his voice to them.

"Thank you."


End file.
